We walk, chattering like magpies, down the long hallway. Our dark voices carom off smooth walls and return to us as someone else's laughter.
This is work, our conversation serious, but the echoes are punch lines to jokes we haven't thought to tell.
Our destination, at the far end of the hallway, is open blue sky. Progress is slow. Like globs of mercury we join and split in shiny clusters. Groups forming, taking on others, stretching, breaking. Liquid people forming and reforming in a forward flow.
A people mover's meshed grates slide beneath our feet and we move more solidly, more quickly.
The belt extends beyond the end of the hallway. Each of us knows that when the belt ends we will free fall down, many miles, to the sidewalk in front of the building. As we move out beyond the walls, we can see blue above and beside us. Far below, clouds obscure the earth.
I watch as co-workers are delivered over the edge, into the empty. They fall as they stood: siding briefcases, newspapers tucked under arms holding cardboard cupped cappuccinos. Straight down they go until impossibly distant clouds consume them.
It is my turn. Over the edge...
Unlike my counterparts, I hold no case, no cup. My arms seek the wind rising alongside me as I fall. Finding purchase, I use the resistance to stabilize myself, to tip my head down and raise my feet up, up, above my head.
I am no longer falling, I am flying. Those around me are still falling straight down but I am pulling away, gaining speed, adding distance.
You will be lost, they scream. Never to be found, they warn. I am hearing, not caring.
The sense of freedom, of flight, overwhelms me. Like a glimpse into heaven, I am filled with light and joy. I laugh at them falling straight down while I direct my flight.
Clouds arrive, pass and fall away behind me in an instant. Treetops rise rapidly and for a moment I fear that I have come too far.
I know that I am over South America. There is jungle beneath me, not the city sidewalks where the rest of the team had landed.
Concerned about hitting the ground too hard, I arch back turning rapid descent into parallel motion that tears leaves from treetops as I pass.
Fast, fast, too fast. I will hit the ground too fast!
Just before the point of impact I force my feet in front of me so that I will land on my back. I SLAM! into the soft earth. The impact jars me half awake.
Pillowed by the jungle undergrowth and the pillows in my bed, I fear that I have hurt myself and begin checking. With an odd dislocation, like reaching out your hand to help a drowning man and feeling the hand you take hold of is your own, I begin touching: my face, my shoulders, my arms, chest. Here and there, in bed and in the jungle, asleep and awake at the same time.
Then the laughter starts, bubbling up at the realization that where I am - thousands of miles from where others land - is a good place to be. I can still hear their worried cries and I want to tell them that I am not lost. I am here. I am happy. Very happy.
I giggle myself awake knowing that I am nothing like the others: I am not the falling type.
NOTE: Picture added 9/4 after laptop repair completed.
This is work, our conversation serious, but the echoes are punch lines to jokes we haven't thought to tell.
Our destination, at the far end of the hallway, is open blue sky. Progress is slow. Like globs of mercury we join and split in shiny clusters. Groups forming, taking on others, stretching, breaking. Liquid people forming and reforming in a forward flow.
A people mover's meshed grates slide beneath our feet and we move more solidly, more quickly.
The belt extends beyond the end of the hallway. Each of us knows that when the belt ends we will free fall down, many miles, to the sidewalk in front of the building. As we move out beyond the walls, we can see blue above and beside us. Far below, clouds obscure the earth.
I watch as co-workers are delivered over the edge, into the empty. They fall as they stood: siding briefcases, newspapers tucked under arms holding cardboard cupped cappuccinos. Straight down they go until impossibly distant clouds consume them.
It is my turn. Over the edge...
Unlike my counterparts, I hold no case, no cup. My arms seek the wind rising alongside me as I fall. Finding purchase, I use the resistance to stabilize myself, to tip my head down and raise my feet up, up, above my head.
I am no longer falling, I am flying. Those around me are still falling straight down but I am pulling away, gaining speed, adding distance.
You will be lost, they scream. Never to be found, they warn. I am hearing, not caring.
The sense of freedom, of flight, overwhelms me. Like a glimpse into heaven, I am filled with light and joy. I laugh at them falling straight down while I direct my flight.
Clouds arrive, pass and fall away behind me in an instant. Treetops rise rapidly and for a moment I fear that I have come too far.
I know that I am over South America. There is jungle beneath me, not the city sidewalks where the rest of the team had landed.
Concerned about hitting the ground too hard, I arch back turning rapid descent into parallel motion that tears leaves from treetops as I pass.
Fast, fast, too fast. I will hit the ground too fast!
Just before the point of impact I force my feet in front of me so that I will land on my back. I SLAM! into the soft earth. The impact jars me half awake.
Pillowed by the jungle undergrowth and the pillows in my bed, I fear that I have hurt myself and begin checking. With an odd dislocation, like reaching out your hand to help a drowning man and feeling the hand you take hold of is your own, I begin touching: my face, my shoulders, my arms, chest. Here and there, in bed and in the jungle, asleep and awake at the same time.
Then the laughter starts, bubbling up at the realization that where I am - thousands of miles from where others land - is a good place to be. I can still hear their worried cries and I want to tell them that I am not lost. I am here. I am happy. Very happy.
I giggle myself awake knowing that I am nothing like the others: I am not the falling type.
NOTE: Picture added 9/4 after laptop repair completed.
Permission granted for no picture. Nice story. I like it very much. Because I am a morning person, I frequently laugh when I awaken, as I did this morning. Happy Friday!
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